


just this

by BadOldWest



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not quite modern-AU but could be?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadOldWest/pseuds/BadOldWest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So when Bellamy wants her to kiss him, whispering so soft and sweet in her ear as he pleads, she decides to make it hard for him.</p><p>“Fine,” she breathes in his ear, “But I’ll only kiss you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	just this

Clarke has issues with kissing.

Not that kissing is a bad thing, mind you, but it always felt like such a gateway kind of thing. You kiss so you can set the groundwork to fuck. It’s a survivalist mentality, always thinking what comes next.

So Clarke has always felt the rushed aspect of it. Never indulgence. It wasn’t something you dedicated an afternoon to, who had the time? Quickies were the dominant phrases in her sexual vocabulary. Violent, teeth gnashing kisses with wandering hands. Kissing while undressing. Kissing while staying dressed, sliding her pants down just enough to move the momentum away from what happening to her lips.

So when Bellamy wants her to kiss him, whispering so soft and sweet in her ear as he pleads, she decides to make it hard for him.

“Fine,” she breathes in his ear, “But I’ll only kiss you.”

He obliges, why would he say no to her, when she knows that with him she gets farther with telling than with asking.

His hands clench and unclench at his sides, itching to grab at her, but her warning rings between them, vibrating in his chest.

_If you use your hands, I will tie them down._

Part of him wants to make her do it.

He lies down on her bed, and she lies beside him, her upper body hovering over his. Not touching, yet. Just looking at his lips like they’re a sugar candy she wants to suck until they melt.  

He fidgets, grunts, reminding. She smiles a little bit, biting her lower lip. She wants him to want it first. He does. He always does. But those next steps don’t even exist to him, all the other things he’s longed for, because he just wants her to kiss him for infinity.

She slides her tongue along the seam of his parted lips, just once, and he tries to chase the touch again.

She presses her lips to his, like it’s a first kiss ever, like they’ve never heard of kissing, like this is just their way of melting into each other as the only two people on earth.

She actually hears him groan as she gently tilts her head to properly take the kiss into her own hands, giving his lower lip a single, possessive suck before releasing him.

She got his head in her hands, holding his neck steady when he tries to crane it up to meet her lips. She worries the scar along his upper lip between her own before moving to let him kiss her back fully.

He surges towards her, lips trained to let her lead but the rest of his body aching to race her faster. His hands grasp her waist, pulling her flush against him. They’re now lying on their side, pressed close.

She’ll allow this.

They keep kissing, lazy, aimlessly.

Her tongue slides into his mouth, and he sucks on it hungrily, not sure if he wants to fuck her into the mattress or just keep accepting whatever she’s giving, because both sound so fucking hot to him. He arches forward, he’s so hard, and he draws her leg over his hip so she can feel what she’s done to him.

He grunts, frustrated, grabbing her ass in his hands and grinds between her legs, reminding her of what they could do next, always next, rushing her forward. Her blood races. She wanted to chide him for being such a boy about this, but god, he has a point. Silently made, effortlessly undermining her control.

She flips him onto his back, holding her hips up over his and merely staring down at him.

He is deprived of her lips, and the risk he’d made is immediately not worth it anymore.

Bellamy is breathless, staring up at her like he doesn’t even know what her benevolence with give him next. His eyes plead.

She strokes his hair out of his face, leaning down to press a single kiss to his lips.

She pulls away. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed. Waiting for her.

Her lips return to his. A single finger swipes where his throat meets so soft flesh under his chin. He understands her cue, eagerly opening his mouth for her. She teases his tongue into her own mouth, which she sucks on. God, his noises will crack her open. She chuckles darkly in response, for his benefit, and he clutches at her shoulder, palms on the flat plain over each shoulder blade.

She tucks her hair over one shoulder, bracing her hands on his chest. She was going to go right back down to kissing him, but the look he is giving her is too much to not savor.

He’ll let her do this, he’ll let her do anything. His dark eyes are so full of her, because it almost feels like there’s nothing more to want, but there’s everything to want, and that conflict is achingly clear in his expression. Every time she pulls back he swallows thickly, like he’s choking back a begging word.

Eventually, he settles on “Clarke”

Her thighs squeeze his hips, and she permits him to lift his hands and run them over the back of her legs.

Her brow presses against his, her nose brushing along his. Her fingers swipe, just once, along the freckles from the bridge of his nose to his cheek. His cheeks are flushed. He looks dizzy. She hopes he is. To have done that to him with only her kiss.

She’s tamed him, with her efforts. Eventually her shirt gets too hot, so she wriggles out of it. As does his, so she permits he do the same. Hands on clothed bits. Naked skin pressed together, really feeling the other’s warmth. Lips tangled, lazy, tired, curious.

She’s not rolling her eyes when she realizes she’s gotten naked for him, because he looks up at her like he never expected he’d been given more.

She doesn’t want to admit once his curious fingers part her folds that she’s never been wetter. That she wants nothing else in the world than for him to slowly thrust up and fuck her as slow and sweet as this kiss was. That the promise and that attention to just one thing was the most thorough fucking she’s ever gotten. Even fully clothed. Even just kissing. She doesn’t know how to separate from him, and it’s not even from lust.

His fingers seem to tell him all that when they ease out of her. His whole body shudders.

When she allows him to roll her onto her back, she doesn’t care what they do next. It’s not a waste of time if they do it very slowly. She’s already trembling, like the right touch was going to make her lose herself to him. Her thighs quake at the right grind of his hips.

He noses gently at her face, mouth hooked in a wry smile, and tells her that no matter what she wants, she’s only getting his kiss.

It seems less fair, from this position.

It seems perfect, from this position.

**Author's Note:**

> So...I'm new to the fandom. Be gentle.


End file.
